Dear Muammar Gaddafi,

Although many people are celebrating your death right now, I would like to take a moment to salute your wicked fashion sense. I hope they let you keep your sunglasses in hell.

Sincerely,
Alex Cartwright

What's up, Vince Vaughn!

Remember when you were young and thin? I didn't, until the other day when I caught a couple minutes of Swingers on cable. I gotta tell you, dude, I'm so glad you got fat.



Look at that guy! Too thin! Waaaay too pretty. Fix your weird chisel-y face, chisel face!



Bluuuuuurgh.



Much better. You're starting to look like Vincent D'Onofrio, which I think is a great move. And you're a much more enjoyable actor now, too! Skinny Vince was all twitchy and energetic. I far prefer current day, "hibernating bear who just woke up and wandered onto a film set" Vince Vaughn. At least, in theory. I haven't seen anything you've done for the last 5 years. So, keep up the good work, I guess?

Yours,
Chelsea

Dear Joan Crawford,  

Let me start by saying that I am a huge fan of you and your work. I have seen as many of your films as are available, unfortunately that’s a little less than half of the pictures you’ve made, because people don’t like you and think you are scary. NOT ME! I think you’re AWESOME!

I have a collection of about 13 biographies written about you, one of my favorites is, “Conversations With Joan Crawford” in which you were interviewed right before your death and pretty much just drunkenly shit talk other celebrities and the American public for being ugly and having bad style. You also discuss that once you realized you had become ugly yourself, you just decided not to leave your house anymore.

Another one of my favorite biographies devoted to you is “Joan’s Men”, which is all about dudes you married and dudes you had sex with. My personal favorite story in that book is the one were you invited Rock Hudson to your house to swim in your pool with you, snuck up on him while he was changing into his suite and told him to “fuck you like he’d fuck Clark Gable”. That is a really creepy thing to say to a person, but from what I understand it worked out in your favor, so way to go!

I’m really sorry that your ungrateful little asshole of a daughter wrote that book about how you beat her up. I think you worked really hard to become a famous lady and now people just think you were a crazy drag queen that enjoyed chopping trees down in the middle of the night with axes. I think that the least that dumb daughter of yours could have done is to publish the book while you were still alive, like Bette Davis’s daughter did. At least then you would have the chance to defend yourself. But what’s done is done. I’m just sorry that no one remembers what a killer fox you were. Instead of looking back on the sweet shit you came up with to say like, "Don't fuck with me, fellas. This cowgirl has been to the rodeo before" or “I never go outside unless I look like Joan Crawford the movie star. If you want to see the girl next door, go next door.” It’s just “no more wire hangers” while you’re beating your kids up. I doubt you even did that but if Christina Crawford was anything like that kid that played her in the movie, she probably deserved it! You took her into your home and how does she repay you? By being a back talking, ungrateful, little orphan ass hole.  

So what if you were super into cleaning your house! It’s your mother fucking house right? I wish you were still alive and wanted to come over and clean my house. It’s a mess! I would be sure to stalk up on your signature cocktail, Vodka with a dash of Pepsi Cola and we could talk shit about Bette (my allegiance is of coarse with you) while you scrub the tile in my shower. 

Regardless of what has been said and done, I hope you're up in heaven, sitting in the largest trailer they've got,  sipping on a cocktail, and staring at a walk in closet chock-full of the finest "Gowns by Adrian" all neatly draped over ivory white hangers made from the bones of your enemies, wrapped in plush velvet, and incrusted with the diamonds given to you by your many homosexual lovers! No more wire hangers for you Ms. Crawford!

Not in heaven. 

Your friend,

Alexandra Cartwright 

Dear Nick Cave,

I don't know if you've heard, but taking yourself too seriously can lead to hair loss. Also, pretending you're not bald can lead to chicks not thinking your're hot anymore, which might explain the onset of your recent case of the "no pussy blues". You look like someones weird Step-Dad. Work it out!




Respectfully,
Alex

Dear former Russian Presedent Vladimir Putin,

I would like you to know that I am a huge fan of your style. I was wondering if you might consider getting together some time over cups of Vodka to discuss what it’s like for you to be a real life James Bond villain? 

I would consider traveling to Russia to visit you but I would prefer it if you came to visit me at my house in Seattle, WA. 

Are you married? If the answer is no, I would really like you to meet my mom. She really doesn’t care about politics (which is great for you because she won’t ask questions when she sees things on television about Siberian prison camps or the assassination of journalists), she loves all animals and enjoys horseback riding,

 she likes to travel and I’m sure she would make a very good impression at dinner parties. Plus, if you guys get married you will be my new Dad! We can go suit shopping together every weekend and maybe next summer we can take a trip to Disneyland.

I think it’s great that when you had to take a brake from being President, you gave your old job to your friend Dmitry Medvedev. At first I thought he was really boring but then I saw how happy he was when his favorite rock and roll group Deep Purple came to his house for dinner. That was awesome!

I will admit that I am very pleased to see you are running against your friend Mr. Medvedev to regain your title. You are very handsome and stylish and therefore a much better fit for President. 

I think we would both really benefit by becoming friends (especially if you're going to marry my Mom). You could teach me how to stare at people so hard that I crush their souls and I could teach you about things like the hit American television show The Gilmore Girls. 

Thanks you for your time and I look forward to hearing from you. 

Al

p.s.- "If you'll be my bodyguard, I can be your long lost pall. Can I call you Vladdy? And Vladdy when you call me, you can call me Al".  I love you. 

Homeless or Hipster by alexandracartwright

Dear "five toed running shoes"guy,

You are disgusting. I can't believe that you went to the mall to buy a new pair of shoes and you saw these things and thought to yourself, "why not".
I'll tell you why not, they have built in toe separators! Do you think that is cool? Well, it's not. It's fucking gross. You are gross.

I have your number mother fucker. I bet you live in one of our city's brand new condo buildings with that stupid medal siding, you follow a strict gluten free diet, you call 911 to report your neighbors being too loud and if you could I bet you'd call 911 to report your neighbors being too black.  I bet you have a stupid little dog named after a lyric in a Dave Mathews song and when it's dark and you've had a long day, you just leave it's shit laying on the sidewalk for someone in normal shoes to step on in the morning. While you're at home you and your loveless wife are likely to be found sitting on separate leather bound sofas and silently watch episodes of Entourage until bed time. Assuming you are married, which let's be honest, you're probably not. Nope, it's just you sitting there with your Dave Mathews dog, wearing your "five toed running shoes", with Entourage playing in the background as you stare at pictures of naked Japanese girls on the internet and rub one out. WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?!  Nothing about you is cool. Not even your DVD collection. That's right "five toe" your DVD collection sucks too! Do you know what owning all of the Pixar movies means? It either means that you're a little kid, that you have a little kid, or in your case it means you are a dip shit. Don't even get me started on the Kurosawa "films" you own because I know as well as you do that they are just on your shelf to impress girls you think you're going to meet on OK Cupid. You would be lucky to score a cow with 17 kids, bad credit and Polio.

Because I'm not a total blow hard, I don't know how fast you can run in "five toed running shoes" but if I were you I would start right now. Run somewhere that I can't find you. Someplace where your people are accepted (Bellevue?). Run as fast as you can with your stupid little shoes, out of my fucking city, and listen out for the faint echo of sexy people dancing in the streets celebrating your departure. Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

Sincerely,
Alexandra Cartwright

Dear people of Spokane,

I would like to apologize for telling anyone who'll listen that you all have Herpes.

Sorry,

Alex 

Hi, Donald Glover!

I know you're a busy dude, and your star is on the rise or whatever, so I'll skip the chit chat. We need to talk about your penis.



You don't get to make that face! You brought it up first. And then you brought it up again. And again. And again. Proof:



Did you hear what you just said? You said your penis was an elephant.That's fuckin' crazy. You also said your dick was made of carrots. I don't really know what to do with that. My larger point, though is that in this one song, (one that is pretty representative of your body of work) by my count, you made reference to your genitals and their various doings THIRTEEN TIMES.



I know, right? Do you have anything to say for yourself?



Yeah, that's about what I thought. Listen, dude: I think you're great. I really like your music, and I think you're an awesome comedic actor. "Jerry" is one of the funniest things I've ever seen, and I don't have time to talk about how much I love you on "Community". But when I listen to your music, I am driven to distraction by all the dick talk! It's seriously like you just found out about it a couple weeks ago. You talk about it so much that I'm starting to worry that you are lying, Donald. I'm worried that you are lying about your huge, irresistible penis. So I'm invoking the Internet Era Golden Rule:

Pics or it didn't happen.

Think about it! It's not a big deal. You're not gonna run for office. You're a rapper, and sometimes rappers (kind of inadvertently) show the world their penises. Kanye did it. Souljah Boy did it. And if you're telling the truth about your huge irresistible penis, this can only be a good thing. So do we have a deal?



Mull it over.

Hugs and kisses,
Chelsea

Dear Robyn,

So, you're an elf...

Right?

Don't be mad, girl, I'm just askin'.
TTFN,
Chelsea

Dear Johnny Depp,

This is Alex from Seattle, Wa and I am writing you today because I’ve had just about all I can take from you.

I am 26 years old, and from the ages of about 10 to 16 years old I will admit that I thought you were pretty cool. You had me with A Nightmare On Elm Street and Ed Wood, which are still pretty good movies. And because you yield some sort of weird power over teenage girls, I liked Edward Scissorhands. I haven’t gone back to re-watch Edward Scissorhands, but if I did I bet I would think it was dumb and that while you were filming it you totally thought you were going to win an Oscar for playing an ugly person. I don’t like the movie Dead Man but I don’t think it’s your fault and I’m not going to make fun of you for being in Don Juan DeMarco or What’s Eating Gilbert Grape because both of those movies are hilarious and I’m glad you made them. You are stupid.

The real problem between us began shortly after the release of Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas. I’m not going to harp on this as much as I could but I think it’s time someone tell you that you are not Hunter S. Thompson in real life. You are a dumb actor that lives in the South of France with a pop star, not a radical guy that spent his life fighting hypocrisy. I bet Hunter S. Thompson just killed himself to get away from you. For the record, you aren’t Keith Richards either.

Now this part I expect you know. Sometime after Fear And Loathing, maybe a year or so, I had a dream. You came over to my house and tried on some of my clothes. You looked better than I did in some of them, so I told you to go ahead and just keep the ones you liked. You left very pleased with a few bags of my clothes and the next day I heard a knock at my door. I walked over and opened it, only to find you standing there with a brand new laptop. You told me the laptop was a gift of appreciation for me giving you my clothes the day before. I graciously accepted. When I woke up from the dream I had this feeling like you weren’t so bad and maybe kind of a cool guy. What took me a few years to discover is that that dream was really some kind of supernatural method you used to gain access to my mind. Somehow my accepting your laptop gave you the key to my innermost likes and dislikes.

You are really good at doing things I dislike, and as if turning the life’s work of a great American hero such as Hunter S. Thompson into your silly little cartoon costume weren’t bad enough, you and your little sidekick Tim Burton have ventured on a mission to destroy all that is holy to a 26 year old blond girl that works part time at a video store. This re-make of the 1960’s television cult favorite Dark Shadows you are heading is, for lack of a better phrase, really pissing me off. I love that fucking show, and now I will be forced to walk on a street past some teenager wearing a hoodie with ears attached to it and a Dark Shadows t-shirt on; a Dark Shadows t-shirt that he bought at a Hot Topic with your stupid face on it. Taking something that is sacred to me, cat ladies, dudes in basements etc. and turning it into a vehicle for you to play a sexy vampire is maddening. And now Mr. Johnny (I think I’m so cool) Depp I have read that you are in the works to re-make one of my all time favorite movies THE THIN MAN! Seriously?! You think you can do a better job than William Powell did? I got news for you buddy: you’re a turd.

I would like to conclude this letter by telling you that I don’t want your fucking laptop! You can keep the clothes but I’m giving you your laptop back. I should have never accepted it in the first place and I will have to live with the guilt of the Dark Shadows and Thin Man re-makes for the rest of my life. But the jig is up! It stops here and now & I don’t want to hear about you re-making one more thing I like (the same goes for that Burton character). I hope I’ve made myself clear.

Thank you.

Alexandra Cartwright

Dear Amanda Knox,

I just wanted to let you know that whether or not you’re guilty of killing your roommate, you’ve been tried and convicted of looking like a total bitch. 

Thank you,
Alexandra Cartwright